The Lift
by PetiteElefant
Summary: Loki has been working at the Chelsea, Manhattan Police Department for a whole whopping six months. He finds out that there is an awards ceremony and runs himself (and his best friend-a tiny,little girl named Char) ragged to get ready. All is going pretty well. Not. Especially when an elevator just happens to get involved. (One-shot) (Off-shoot of my story Once Upon A Time)


**_Hello Fanfictionettes. It's been more than just a while._**

**_Let's just say my other "hobby" has taken over my world a bit._**

**_Though writing is no longer my pet preoccupation,_**

**_It feels great to be back._**

**_This is the first one-shot I've ever written._**

**_I'm tired of not being able to show you guys the true and final product of Loki and his guardian-child._**

**_Therefore, I plan on stepping away from the chronological plot from time to time and poke at the future a bit by writing some funny one-shots of their adventures together._**

**_I hope you guys enjoy this AND BEG ME FOR MORE_**

**_Because I will be writing more._**

**_Je te promets._**

**_Merci en avance pour lirez._**

**_Let's begin._**

**DISCLAIMER: _Chartreuse Bhatia of Midguard belongs to me and only me. Loki Laufeyson-Odinson of Asgard belongs to Marvel (insert tiny copyright symbol) and only Marvel (insert copyright symbol). Although, it can be said (or argued) that Chartreuse belongs to Loki and Loki to Chartreuse and—therefore by default—Loki to me. In short..._**

**_I own Loki too._**

**_Fin._**

**"The Lift"**

* * *

"Why you won't get in? Can you tell me that, Loki? Can you tell me _why_?" said the tiny woman, sliding her hands down her face as her soaking, once-lovely Indian hair dripped on her navy blue sundress.

"It really isn't that difficult to grasp, Chartreuse. That machine is hazardous."

"It's not hazardous, Loki. It's completely safe. You've ridden one dozens of times at Stark's. Why won't you get in this one?"

"I don't know who manufactured it."

"_Why_ do you have to know who manufactured it?"

Loki opened his mouth to speak but Char cut him off.

"Hundreds of passengers ride it every day! What's the problem?"

"That is the problem." he said, pointing directly at the perfectly convenient transporting system.

Char rolled her eyes and applied her palm to her forehead.

"How do I know whether or not the system will malfunction and we both plummet to our deaths?"

He closed his eyes and raised both his eyebrows, "Then we'll never know whether or not I had been designated to obtain a medal!"

Char sighed exasperatedly. "This is not happening. This is **not **happening..."

* * *

"Hurry, Chartreuse. We're going to be late."

"I'm hurrying! I'm hurrying!"

Today was supposed to be a relatively simple day. A festive one but a simple one. Today was the ceremony. The awards ceremony for the CMPD. That is, the Chelsea, Manhattan Police Department.

Since Loki had only been working there for the brief period of six months, Char was doubtful that he would receive an award. But because Loki had been so excited since the day he found out that the CMPD had an awards ceremony (eight days ago), Char kept her lips zipped.

From the time he'd been told, he reminded her at least every couple hours that they must attend the ceremony and that they must be explicitly punctual. The day before, he came up with the "wonderful" idea that they should bring a big, celebratory cake to the commemorative occasion and Char spent the entire afternoon baking. She slaved over a mixing bowl, only to produce a flat, crispy looking pancake and a cluttered kitchen since Char's cooking, let alone, baking skills were shamefully below par for any woman. They settled for ordering a custom cake at the closest and most Loki-approved bakery. So now Char was beyond certain that his hopes for decoration had not only surpassed great, but had moved on to inordinate.

This morning had been, as anticipated, a hectic one before they had even left the house.

Char was hopping on one foot trying to put one of her red pumps on. (Char had almost never worn anything other than her infamous bright yellow rain-boots since the day her mother bought her her first pair when she was nine months old. Loki would not allow her to wear "those tawdry, outrageously-coloured boots" to his event. They argued for at least an hour. In that time, Char had grown so weary that somehow she'd agreed to buying a pair of heels and wearing them. She was now thoroughly regretting it.)

With much scolding from Loki, they managed to leave their apartment with considerable time to spare.

It would have been considerable had not the following events occurred.

•The heel on one of Char's shoes broke, so they had to go(for her-limp) to the store and get an exchange.

•When they finally got to the subway, he realised he had left his metro card at home so they had to double back.

•When they went to the bakery to pick up the cake, the word "honour" in fondant icing did not have its "u" in it and Loki demanded they fix it.

•After receiving and paying for the now "proper" cake, they got in a taxi in which the cabbie knew very little English and Char had to use her Dora-level Spanish to get them to their destination.

At the beginning of the day, they both were dressed rather smartly and were very well-arranged. When they finally entered the high-rise building, however, both appeared to be in very dire straits-especially Char. Char, though she had mended shoes, walked with a limp, for she was unaccustomed to wearing high heels. Her once beautifully set and curled hair was wet and had reverted to a long, limp, floppy snake, for right as they left the subway, it had begun to shower (thankfully the cake had a proper cover). And, her muscles were sore, for SHE was the one who was had to march behind Loki the entire way with the said three-tiered cake in tow. (His excuse for making her carry it was that he didn't want to accidentally ruin his suit and that would be disgraceful.)

Proceeding asking the receptionist at the front desk what floor and what room the CMPD was holding its award ceremony (even though it said so on the front page of the printed program he had in hand—but Loki insisted on asking, just to make sure), they went down the hall on the right, receiving many strange looks from others along the way. An elevator came up promptly on their left and, coming upon it, Char set down the cake with a painful moan, straightened her aching back, and with a weak smile, thrilled to be AT LAST at their journey's end, pushed with up button, which emanated a happy, green glow.

"What are you doing?"

Char cringed at the sound of that oh-so familiar condescending tone of that distinguished British voice. She could almost hear the sound of someone taking the needle off of a record player.

Char didn't even bother to turn her head. "We have to take the elevator."

"I don't think so."

Char whipped around, a solid look on her face. "Whadda ya' mean, 'you don't think so'?"

There was an obvious threatening tone in her voice. Loki took this into account and still made the decision to speak. A bad one. Loki said, "We aren't taking the lift."

It was at that time the elevator reached the ground floor and opened behind her and a flood of people surged around them.

"What are you talking about?" she said shaking her head, stepping aside as people passed. "We're going to be late."

"I agree." Loki replied with a grimace, the very thought of tardiness crushing him inside. "But we are taking the stairway."

Char cocked her head to the side staring at him with her those enormous dark eyes of hers in disbelief, her voice rising to an insane pitch. "That's twenty-two flights!"

Loki was unfazed. He said simply with a nod, "So it is. We'd better make haste."

She deadpanned. "Are you crazy?"

Arguing ensued, promptly. Gradually more and more people began to stare as they went at it, yet no one tried (or perhaps dared) to intervene.

At first, it was just mild squabbling such as the dialogue exchanged at the beginning, but it slowly evolved into loud (mostly on account of Char) bantering.

Loki was beginning to become slightly self -conscious as the eyes began to gather, but, as you can guess, Char is not the person to take abuse standing down. "We took a cab. We took a _train_. Both of which, I'm pretty sure you are more likely to **die in** than a freaking elevator!"

Loki started to mutter but Char was not finished. She was basically delirious at this point.

"I did not do all of this running around in heels and ride the subway and take a cab to be late."

She'd done everything with a closed mouth, enduring and taking all of his crap the past eight days for the sake of his happiness. But enough was enough.

"I'm happy for you. I'm excited about this party. I really am. But I'm darn sure not gonna' carry that stupid cake up twenty-two flights of stairs.

The sass levels were almost lethal.

She kicked the cake box. "_I'm_ taking the elevator. Good. Bye."

Almost on cue the elevator doors slid open. Loki tried to grab her but the crowds of people exiting obstructed him, almost shoving him farther and farther away from her. Before he knew it, he could barely see her triumphant grin as she waved at him as the door closed shut in front of him.

Loki cursed under his breath. Not in English of course. But he cursed nonetheless.

Sadly, he cast his eyes at the door of the emergency stairwell next to the lift and then, at the cake. He sighed.

* * *

Twenty minutes later...

Char was sitting quaintly in a metal folding chair in the back of a large assembly room. Bored, anxious, but quaint. Sitting motionless for lengths of time was not her strongest point. But the last thing she needed to do was draw attention to herself in a room full of cops. A thief in a room full of cops. Being arrested, that would be the icing on the cake, she thought in only half-amusement. A decorated officer had just finished his speech and had stepped off of the platform with a medal for his she-didn't-know-what-because-she-wasn't-paying-attention-ness.

Captain O'Reilly then stepped on stage and announced that the next awards would be given to the detectives of their unit.

Char's heart skipped a beat. If Loki, by some miracle, would be receiving anything for his work, it would be now. She'd been fooling herself into thinking that she was NOT thinking about him. But really, every other fleeting thought—even as officers and lieutenants went up and got their medals or plaques or trophies—was 'Where the heck is Loki?'

"And this final prize goes to a personal friend of mine-even though you are all personal friends-all of you can agree that this man is a special one..."

A knot tied itself in Char's stomach. "C'mon man, where are you?" she mumbled nervously under her breath, tightening her grip on the end of her chair and crossing her legs.

"He is kind. He is humble. He is intelligent. His skills are astounding. Granted, his methods are a bit bizarre, almost, dare I say, alien?" the Captain paused as the audience laughed.

Char, did not laugh however. She instead gasped and sat up on the edge of her seat. No way, she thought, No fricken' way. That couldn't be him.

"He has stood the tests of this department and I have had the privilege of sharing his friendship for more than seven years..."

Seven years. Char's eyes grew disproportionately and her pupils dilated. That wasn't Loki.

"Crap." she said out loud, so loud , in fact, it turned about half of the heads in the audience. Captain O'Reilly and those in the closer rows didn't hear, and he continued his speech undeterred.

At that very moment, the double doors exploded open. Dangerously heavy breathing and wheezing was heard before the infiltrator even appeared in the doorway. Then, an enormous cake stumbled maladroitly into the assembly hall.

"Char-treuse?!" hollered Loki, his hoarse voice rebounding like the howl of an injured dog. "Chartreuuuse?!"

Char leapt out of her chair leapt out of her chair and darted as fast as she could towards the door. When she got to him, Loki was still shouting her name. She snatched the cake from him and began shushing him. "Shh!"

Upon seeing her and being suddenly relieved of the cumbersome desert, he dropped into her arms. This looked very awkward considering Char's almost dwarf-like size because that meant his entire upper body was draped over her shoulder, his dead weight almost knocked her to the floor.

"Lo-ki-get-off-me!" she strained, her eyes bulging out of her skull.

He straightened up just enough to slump his arms around her neck. "Chartreuse!" he cried out breathlessly.

"Shut up! You moron, quit saying my name! You wanna' get me arrested?!" she whispered angrily.

But it was of no avail. He wouldn't shut his mouth.

She couldn't remember whether or not he'd had anything to eat or drink all day. He must have exhausted himself into delirium. His hair was no longer neatly combed—from both the rain and his excursion through the building, his inky black tresses were sticky out and up and every which way, drenched in sweat, appearing as though he'd—well—climbed twenty-two flights of stairs carrying a sixty-pound cake!

"I think I've lost feeling in my legs." Loki said, his volume no lower than when he first arrived, still drawing undue attention to them both.

"Of course you lost the feeling in your legs!" Char whispered-screamed. "You climbed all of those fricken' stairs, you fool!"

"I'm a fool. I've been such a fool-"

"Shut up! The ceremony is still goin' on!"

As if he had been bopped on the head by a magic wand, Loki rectified himself, completely rid of his crazed episode. His green eyes widened to the size of softballs. He gasped, "The ceremony!"

"Yes! That what I've been trying to tell you, you imbecile!"

Both of their heads snapped to the direction of the stage.

"He was kind of reluctant at first. He didn't really fit in around the station. And, I must admit that, back then, I didn't have much confidence in him. But now, through all we've been through he is, without a doubt, the best detective I have ever met."

Loki's entire face brightened like a child on Christmas day. He gripped Char's shoulders and grinned, "I knew it." and he shot off toward the stage at once.

"Wait!" Char called after him. But it was too late, he was already half-way down the aisle, tousled hair, rumpled outfit, and all. "It's not you."she exhaled sorrowfully as she watched him go.

Captain O'Reilly noticed out of the corner of his eye that Loki was heading for the stage and he gave him a confused look that evolved into bewilderment as the tall, lanky, and, for some reason, rather disheveled-looking man grew nearer and nearer.

"And this medal of superior achievement in private investigation goes to…"

Loki walked up the steps directly towards the podium and stretched out his hand to the Captain just above him. Captain O'Reilly held the prize away from him and gazed at him like, 'What the heck are you doing?' for a moment.

Captain O'Reilly looked to the crowd and stammered, "H-head Detective Rickie Salgados!"

Loki's face transformed from a look of utter joy and exhilaration to pure, unadulterated despondency.

The officers applauded as a man with short blonde hair and blue eyes came up behind Loki and cleared his throat. Loki's hand was still outstretched, his jaw ajar with astonishment.

"Sorry," Salgados said shyly as he stepped up beside him and took the medal.

Knowing how awkward the situation was, Salgados whispered,"I'll take congratulations later, Captain." and the Captain nodded, still stunned. Rickie hurried down the steps.

Loki was still there. His face tinged as red as a fire engine.

The Captain cleared his throat. "And that will conclude today's ceremony."

Disconcerted and uneven applause ensued followed by an uproar of whispering and casual conversation.

Captain O'Reilly, a short man with red hair and a toothbrush-like moustache, sighed and shook his head, no neck visible to the human eyes. He stepped down from the podium and clapped his hand over Loki's shoulder, a task that was quite difficult for a man of his height, and said, "Maybe next time, Frost." then shuffled away.

Loki stood there frozen. Then, he closed his eyes and let out probably the longest sigh in the world's history. He heard tiny running footsteps behind him and suddenly felt something small wind around his waist. "You are such a fool."

He didn't need to open his eyes, he knew who it was. "Yes. I know."

He felt a warmth peck his cheek and his eyes popped open, caught unawares.

Char was there, her eyes as black and wide and round and shining as the dark side of the moon, smiling blithely. "You're _my_ fool, though. So," She shrugged, "I guess it's okay."

Loki, not being able to withstand it, snorted and began laughing and so did she.

"You just got a humility check, didn't you?" she said, smirking.

Loki nodded, chagrined. "Indeed, I did."

Char snickered but then frowned. Ever since the "accident" almost a year and a half ago, Loki was usually reserved by nature and not prideful in the slightest. It was just the past week and the excitement got to his head. Although it had been months since his last depressive episode, she could almost see him reverting back to his broken-like state with no confidence or esteem whatsoever. He'd learned his lesson alright but would he take it too hard?

"You'll be okay though, right?"

Loki peered downwards and saw the faint look of concern on her face. He knew exactly what she was thinking. Yes, there was Char, always looking after him as usual.

He gently kissed her forehead. "I'll be fine."

Char's face brightened. Loki was never one to display affection in public, like ever. It was like his pet peeve. But she supposed that he couldn't possibly lose any more dignity that he had already. Before she could blush she said simply, "Cool." She leered to the back of the room. "Let's go eat cake."

He snagged her by the arm before she could walk away.

"What?" she said, alarmed.

He stapled his eyes to the floor, guiltily. "I apologize for mistreating you these past few days," he paused, "...And for being so daft, quite frankly." He smiled bashfully.

Char rolled her eyes—how could she possibly be angry with that? Her normal, much more humble, Loki was back, thank goodness.

"Apology accepted, Space Ranger."

Loki grinned, the brightness returning to his glowing eyes.

"_Now _let's go eat. I'm starving!"

"So am I."

"No kidding,"she scoffed.

"I heard there was pizza being offered."

"No way."

"Indeed."

"Awesome."

Char galloped down the aisle happily, and a smiling Loki followed at his little girl's heel, walking like a normal person.

Laughing, joking, fun, and cake-eating enveloped the remainder of the afternoon.

Of course, all Loki got all afternoon was "Hey, Mister Best Detective in the World!" from his workmates, none of which really liked him to begin with and now had yet another reason to make fun of him. (Char had to use every ounce of strength she had not to give all of those doughnut-munching morons a piece of her.)

Ashamed but refined, Loki didn't allow his blunder to drown him. He merely gave timid smile and accepted the humiliation.

Besides, there was always next year...

**_Reviews appreciated._**

**_~The tiny elephant_**


End file.
